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“You will probably be surprised to learn that
your critic is here referring to a very beautiful
study of a Christian martyr who has been thrown among
the wild beasts of the arena, and who is engaged in
being eaten by a lion. The animal is not a yellow
dog; that human being has not been in swimming; and
the reason that he is smaller than the lion is that
I had to make him so in order to get his head into
the lion’s mouth. Would you have me represent
the lion as large as an elephant? Would you have
me paste a label on the Christian martyr to inform
the public that ’This is not a boy who has been
treading water with his hands tied’? Now,
look at the matter calmly. Is the Patriot
encouraging art when it goes on in this manner?
Blame me if I think it is.”

“It certainly doesn’t seem so.”

“Well, then, what do you say to this? What
do you think of a critic who remarks,

“’But the most extraordinary thing in
the picture is the group in the foreground. An
old lady with an iron coal-scuttle on her head is
handing some black pills to a ballet-dancer dressed
in pink tights, while another woman in a badly-fitting
chemise stands by them brushing off the flies with
the branch of a tree, with a canary-bird resting upon
her shoulder and trying to sing at some small boys
who are seen in the other corner of the field.
What this means we haven’t the remotest idea;
but we do know that the ballet-dancers’ legs
have the knee-pans at the back of the joint, and that
the canary-bird looks more as if he wanted to eat
the coal-scuttle than as if he desired to sing.’

“This is too bad. Do you know what that
beautiful group really represents? That old lady,
as your idiot calls her, is Minerva, the goddess of
War, handing cannon balls to the goddess of Love as
a token there shall be no more war. And the figure
in what he considers the chemise is the genius of
Liberty holding out an olive branch with one hand,
while upon her shoulder rests an American eagle screaming
defiance at the enemies of his country, who are seen
fleeing in the distance. Canary bird! small boys!
ballet-girl! The man is crazy, sir; stark, staring
mad. And now I want you to write up an explanation
for me. This kind of thing exposes me to derision.
I can’t stand it, and, by George! I won’t!
I’ll sue you for libel.”

Then the major promised to make amends, and Mr. Brewer
withdrew in a calmer mood.

CHAPTER XX.

HIGH ART.

An itinerant theatrical company gave two or three
performances in Millburg last winter, and in a very
creditable fashion, too. One of the plays produced
was Shakespere’s “King John,” with
the “eminent tragedian Mr. Hammer” in
the character of the King. It is likely
that but for an unfortunate misunderstanding the entertainment
would have been wholly delightful. There is a
good deal of flourishing of trumpets in the drama,